


On Love

by TrevorPhilipsismySpiritAnimal (lazysatyr)



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Drug Mentions, Murietta Heights, alcohol consumption, boy's night out, the vanilla unicorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazysatyr/pseuds/TrevorPhilipsismySpiritAnimal
Summary: As the smoke seems to settle post Option C, Michael and Trevor attempt to work on their flawed, awful, totally uncomfortable and poorly matched friendship.





	

It was raining in Los Santos tonight (of all places) and Trevor was itching to get out.  
  
Michael grudgingly accepted, so long as they met in a public place (with witnesses), so they agreed to meet up at the Vanilla Unicorn for a boy's nght out.  
  
They watched the girls dance for a while; their beautiful bodies gyrating to the thump thump of club music. It didn't take long for Trevor to grow anxious in his own domain, however, and when Michael noticed his friend had wandered to the bar to pound back shot after shot, he suggested maybe they go somewhere else instead.  
  
"Hey, you know..." Michael said as they got in Trevor's truck, "Why don't we agree not to bicker tonight. I just wanna have a good time out with my buddy."  
  
Trevor glanced at Michael skeptically, but he nodded in agreement. He wasn't really in the mood for an argument anyway.  
  
They wound up in the back booth of a dive bar in Murrietta, sharing some tentative laughs over a few drinks. Michael was getting toasty; this felt natural. Shootin' the shit with his old buddy again... his deranged, psychopathic, choking-somebody-one-minute-and-declaring-his-love-to-them-the-next best buddy. God, he had lost all control of his life.  
  
"Soooo, how's the family, Mikey?" Trevor asked as he lifted his glass to his thick lips. He leaned a forearm against the wooden table top, the calloused pad of his thumb running across a few letters that had been carved into the surface long ago.  
  
"... What, you fuckin' with me? I thought we agreed we weren't gonna make it personal tonight..."  
  
"No, I aint fuckin' with ya, I'm just wonderin' how the wife and kids are is all." Trevor said as he leaned back in the booth.  
  
"...you gotta understand... I'm used to you bein' a prick when you ask somethin' like that..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, well I aint bein' a prick right now, so..."  
  
"Well, they're good. We're good. I mean, they're out of town right now... But we've been doin' real well lately. Tracey's gettin' ready for her first semester of college and Jimmy's actually been gettin' job interviews, believe it or not. Things are goin' real well for us."  
  
"Ah, good." Trevor said, clearly only partially interested as he toyed with the ice in his glass. "And uh... how's the wife?"  
  
Michael's eyes snapped up at Trevor at that question. He was skeptical that he even cared at all. He sure didn't seem like he should care...  
  
"Good. Very good. I mean, we've been working on things. I think it's been going smoothly. I really think we're both finally trying to fix our problems, y'know? Instead of just cheatin' all the time and yelling at each other."  
  
"Sounds like paradise..." Trevor grunted sarcastically. Michael let out a soft chuckle, letting his knuckles drop on the table. "So, where'd they get off to anyway? And why aintcha out with 'em?"  
  
"Amanda's sister's gettin' re-married, but I've got some work to do with Solomon's new project this week so I thought I'd stay behind. Her family never did like me much anyhow, y'know..."  
  
"Oh yeah, I remember..." Trevor sneered, recalling the day of Amanda and Michael's wedding. What an awful time that was... but it sure was fun to fuck with their scummy family members, not even having to try... That brought him some of the only joy he felt back then.  
  
"I just never felt like I could see eye to eye with them, yknow? I just dont get them, and they don't get me."  
  
"Yeaahh... They were always a buncha assholes anyway." Trevor agreed before taking another pull off his drink. He glanced across the bar and noticed the bartender idly listening to their conversation as she dried glasses. He winked coyly at her and she promptly turned her attention elsewhere.  
  
"God... is this really what we're gonna do with what little time we got left on this earth? Bitchin' and drinkin' our nights away?"  
  
"Maybe you. I tend to keep myself busy." Trevor said matter-of-factly.  
  
"I got a feelin' I know what that entails, and I'm not sure that's much better, to be honest."  
  
" _You_ , bein' honest?" Trevor scoffed, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Ahhh, c'mon. Let's get outta here. I'm sick of moping my life away."  
  
Trevor didn't protest, but he was sure to finish his drink before they went.  
  
* * *  
  
Somehow, the rain was coming down even harder than before, and Michael regretted letting Trevor drive. San Andreas drivers were awful when it wasn't raining, so they practically lost their minds the moment water began falling from the sky. The two were soaked by the time they pulled into the driveway of Michael's home, but Trevor didn't seem to care.  As he bulldozed through stop signs and flew through red lights, Michael was amazed they didn't get into a wreck.  
  
"Y'wanna come in?" Michael asked as he got out of the truck, glad they had somehow made it home.  
  
"Well, yeah, sure." Trevor replied, a little surprised he was invited at all. He cut the engine and followed the other to the door.  
  
Michael let them in and immediately excused himself to go change into dry clothes. Trevor took the opportunity to poke around the house, leaving things just out of place and turning family portraits face down.  
  
When Michael returned, he found Trevor had pulled off his soaked shirt and tossed it carelessly to the floor. He lay sprawled across the couch, an arm draped across the back with a drunken look on his face.  
  
"You want a drink?" Michael asked.  
  
"Is that supposed to be a joke? Of course I want a fuckin' drink." Trevor replied, annoyed he even had to ask.  
  
"You want to order some food?" Michael continued as he went to fetch glasses.  
  
"I could eat..." Trevor said, though he couldn't resist thinking about the last time Michael wanted to get pizza...  
  
Michael hesitated as he stared at his fine glassware. He could easily imagine Trevor flinging a $20 glass on a whim, so he grabbed his "#1 okayest dad" mug Tracey had gotten him last father's day and filled it with ice and whiskey for Trevor and a glass of scotch for himself.  
  
Michael handed Trevor his drink, but promptly returned to the kitchen to order from his favorite pizza joint. He didn't bother to ask, he knew what Trevor always wanted; meat, meat, meat.  
  
After a few moments he came and sat down on the other side of the couch, grabbing the remote and switching on the TV before idly flipping through channels to fill the silence.  
  
"You know, I really missed you..." Trevor grumbled, sounding kind of sad drunk. Michael paused his channel surfing and found the other staring intensely at him.  
  
"I know buddy, but now I'm back, yeah?"  
  
"Yup. Back from the dead. Yeahhh..." Trevor said, his eyebrows narrowing.  
  
"Come on Trev, we agreed... I just wanna have a stress-free evening with my pal." Michael warned. "I just want to hang out like we used to."  
  
Trevor wanted to spill his guts, to let Michael really know just how much pain and grief he felt for all those years. But for what? Michael would just throw up his blinders and tell him to swallow it back down.  
  
Michael could tell Trevor was a rolling boil on the inside, building pressure. He sighed, sitting back a bit to get comfortable. "Come on... Do you really hate me that much?"  
  
Trevor's grip tightened at that question. Michael said that with such an endearing inflection, with that knowing smirk to match. Trevor could just strangle him right then and there if there wasn't so much complexity between them.  
  
"No, Mike. I fucking LOVED you, you narcissistic turd." Trevor seethed, his voice rough from the alcohol. "And not even in the 'I wanna put my fingers in ya' kinda way either! You were a BROTHER to me. --More than a brother!  And I didn't mean shit to you!"  
  
"Come on man, calm down..." Michael insisted, attempting to keep a level voice. He could tell Trevor had had far too much to drink. "Come on, cool down, everything is gonna be alright."  
  
"FUCK you!" Trevor snarled, reaching down for his boot where a knife lay tucked inside. He sprung to his feet, wielding the small but deadly blade. "I'll show you fucking calm! I'll find my center somewhere in your disemboweled carcass!"  
  
Michael raised to his feet as well, a look of genuine fear flickering in his eyes. "Scaaary. Real scary Trevor, but what's that gonna solve, you drunken fool? I thought we were trying to fix things, not fuck 'em up worse! Come on now. I invited you into my family's home, and this is how you act?"  
  
Trevor's eyes were wild, the glaze of wild abandon giving him the appearance of a rabid, uncontrollable animal.  
  
"Come on Trev, we agreed..."  
  
"Ff-RR-FUCK the fucking agreement! In your most raw and vulnerable moments all those years ago you promised me you'd never turn your back on me, what the fuck good is your word to me now?" Trevor seethed, waving the blade precariously between them.  
  
Somehow, deep down, Michael didn't really believe his old buddy would really hurt him; Trevor was more than capable of violent murder, no doubt about it, but he knew if it was gonna happen, it would have happened already. But there was always that inkling of doubt; that the depraved lunatic might finally flip for good.  
  
"I get it. I betrayed you and there ain't nothin' that's gonna fix that. I get it Trevor, how many times do ya gotta pound that message in 'til you think it sticks?" Michael said, spoken with an air of annoyance despite his good intentions. "What do ya want now? Other than harassing me--and-and torturing yourself?"  
  
"Rrrrrah! Don't fucking patronize me, you cocksucker!" Trevor spat out before lunging at Michael, wide-eyed and feral. Michael felt his stomach drop as the other rushed toward him, wondering where that blade was going to end up. He clenched his jaw, arms raising just before the other came in close to envelop him into a hug.  
  
Trevor collided with the other man, but Michael stood like a pillar of iron resolve in his place. He braced for the jagged bite of the knife as it would plunge into his gut, but instead, the weapon slipped from Trevor's grip and hit the floor with a clatter at their feet.  
  
Trevor let out an anguished howl as Michael's arms embraced his shoulders. He trembled and let out a wounded sob, and within seconds, Michael could feel hot tears staining the fresh fabric of his shirt.  
  
"I hate you!--I-I love you! Rrrhh! You hate me!" Trevor cried, his voice muffled in Michael's chest. The meth head's hands clung and groped at the softer parts of Michael's back in desperation as he wept like the pathetic wreck he was.  
  
"Alright T, there, there buddy." Michael said, attempting to comfort the inconsolable man in his arms. He nearly had a moment of empathetic melancholy, but the gritty, sweaty texture of Trevor's bare skin beneath his smooth hands distracted him from his guilt.  
  
Trevor was repulsive in every imaginable way, but Michael couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for how foul he was. When they were young, he enabled the violence, the drinking, the drugs, encouraged it even; so long as Trevor remained loyal to him, anything was acceptable. He even let Trevor harbor his infatuation, even provoked it when it suited him. Michael's ego loved to be worshipped, and he felt infinitely more powerful as a hustler on the streets with a badass like Trevor Philips at his back.  
  
But on the flip side, he had watched Trevor suffer and struggle for all those years. The man seemed to be spawned of misery, and yet he had the wit to make you laugh in the face of oblivion—when he wasn't furious, of course. It never ceased to amaze Michael, that Trevor was such a confusing amalgam of contradictions. He would chide you for smoking cigarettes one second and shoot up speed the next. He would blow a rapist's head off to save a woman from a cruel fate, then later feel up helpless drunks at parties for fun. The man could love and hate so vividly, and the line had long blurred between the two.  
  
"I fucking love you." Trevor sobbed into Michael's collar bone. Half of Michael's shirt was wet with tears. He was like a storm breaker, weathering Trevor's ceaseless torrent.  
  
"I know, man." Michael said, attempting to empathize with the other. "Come on, get a grip, bro."  
  
Michael had never been good with emotions. He preferred to bottle them up and drown them in booze rather than think about them, let alone express them.  He felt hopeless in the few moments he was ever caught crying. His sadness was not something for the world to see, it was his own private matters to attend to. Trevor seemed to see it the opposite way; his problems are the world's burden to bear.  
  
Trevor was shaking in his arms, but unwilling to release his hold on the other. He seemed to be completely at a loss.  
  
"C'mon now..." Michael said, attempting to pull away but failing as Trevor dragged himself closer. He sighed in defeat and lead them backwards onto the couch, Trevor following him down, clinging to Michael's sides in desperation.  
  
Michael sighed and tried to relax, but he was beginning to feel kind of violated by how up close and comfortable Trevor was getting. Trevor's hand was groping desperately at his thigh, rubbing precariously close to his groin.  
  
"Eyyy, easy. Easy now, let's keep this above the belt, huh pal?" Michael said, taking Trevor's wrist and relocating his hand to his stomach.  
  
"I just wanna..." Trevor breathed, his hand returning to Michael's side, groping his softest places as he pulled himself as close as physically possible.  
  
"Boy, you aint got no chill, do ya?"  
  
Trevor froze and glanced up at the other man, eyebrows raised. He paused, realizing what he was doing.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" Trevor grumbled, but not without a hint of irritation.  He sat up and ran a palm through his thinning hair, attempting to get himself together. He was a walking mess, and had been for at least a decade by now.  
  
"It's alright man, just cool it down." Michael said with a warning tone, giving the other a firm pat on his shoulder. "I'd ask if you'd like another drink, but you look like it would just mess you up worse."  
  
Trevor seemed to be sinking, and though he was too drunk to stand up straight, his thirst felt unquenchable. The only time he felt comfortable anymore was when he was cuddled up to a warm body or a mostly finished bottle of booze.  
  
God he felt so helpless... His mind was filled with conflicting emotions and the whispers of unspeakable acts, constantly urging.  
  
"Look T... --Trevor... I wanna make somethin' clear to you..." Michael said, sitting up to speak close to his friend. "All those years ago, you were my best buddy in the whole world, but deep down inside, I was scared shitless of our future. The Feds? They were onto us man, more than you even know. They practically knew where we were hittin' next before we did, and they were ready to strike at any moment. When they came to me and told me I could cooperate or face life behind bars, or worse, I had to make a call. They told me the worst that would happen to you would be federal prison, but I thought,  Hey, that wouldn't even be your first time at the rodeo.  Ehh...  I didn't expect things to go quite the way they did...  That sure as fuck wasn't the last time we got jerked around by the Feds, huh?"  
  
Trevor didn't look up from the carpet. He didn't know what to think. He'd heard all of this before in a number of different ways, he felt like dear-ol' Mikey had simply refined it all down into a convenient, sugar-coated short story to retell on a whim,  positioning himself as the hero, yet again.  
  
"I made that call, Trevor. I'm sorry I threw you under the bus. I'm sorry everything fell apart... I really wanted what was best for everybody, but mostly the innocents that were involved. Surely you get that."  
  
"Yeah." Trevor growled through clenched teeth, clearly holding back vitriol. The veins in his temples throbbed visibly. Michael was sure Trevor would be yelling already if he wasn't speaking to him so gently.  
  
"Trev. You were the only one I missed... When I came here, I had nobody... I had to live with myself after what I'd done. It was awful, but I felt some kind of... peace, though... The kinda peace you get when yer lyin' on a lounger on a sunny afternoon, or sittin' on the docks by yourself at sunset. As much as it brought me peace, there's a monster inside of me that wanted out. I didn't miss the killing, I didn't miss watching you destroy yourself... I guess what I mean to say is, I never found another brother like you."  
  
"Do you hear yourself Mikey?" Trevor scoffed, pulling away. There was that silver tongue at work again, and suddenly Trevor could vividly recall why he ever could have trusted Michael in the first place. "Do you realize you're leaking bullshit? Do you honestly believe I'm gonna buy your crap? You missed me?  What a fuckin' joke."  
  
"Trevor... I tried my best. Whattaya want me to say? That I pined for you? That it was my biggest mistake of my life and I shoulda run off with you instead?"  
  
"I want you to be honest with me Mikey, don't feed me what you think I wanna hear. I want you to admit you wanted me dead, and that you only used me for what I was worth before you threw me to the fucking wolves."  
  
Michael drew in a breath. Here he was, attempting to level with him, and Trevor was opening up the same wounds again.  
  
"Tell me! Tell me how you laughed at me. Tell me how you broke every promise you ever made to me! Tell me how you thought I'd cope without you!"  
  
"Stop it, T..." Michael said, feeling guilt he wasn't aware he held the capacity for any longer. "This is too far."  
  
"Tell me!!" Trevor raged, ignited yet again.  
  
Michael felt his heart pounding in his ears. This could go real wrong real quick. He stared into Trevor's burning, wild eyes. He felt something... Somewhere between pity and crushing guilt. He hated that feeling.  
  
Michael didn't think words would ever change anything at this point. The adrenaline pumping through every inch of him told him to fight, but he bit it all back.  
  
Calmly, he reached over, knowing full well he may as well be reaching into gator infested waters, and let his hand rest on Trevor's shoulder. Michael's smooth thumb brushed the other's clavicle, and he gained a vaguely irritated look.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry I could never be who you wanted me to be, Trevor. I'm sorry I let you down."  
  
Trevor's scarred face was a raw mix of anger, sadness and confusion. He had the impulse to wrap his powerful hands around the other man's throat and choke, but Michael's warm touch, his gentle words had him softening up on the inside.  
  
 Michael was pleased to find he could still disarm Trevor. He leaned in,  his arm wrapping around the other's neck to pull him closer.  He let his forehead knock against Trevor's temple. The other man stunk of booze and sweat and unclean body. Michael recalled a time when Trevor actually tried to function as a normal human being, but that was oh so long ago...  
  
"Fuck you..." Trevor resisted, bringing up an arm between them.  
  
"Come on man, let it go..." Michael heaved, embracing the other man by force. Trevor couldn't resist affection, and his rigid shoulders began to relax.  
  
"Shh, come on..." Michael cooed, edging himself between the other and the back of the sofa. Trevor seemed puzzled, but eventually realized what Michael was trying to do.  
  
He laid down in Michael's arms, back to chest and he heaved a weary sigh.  
  
"There you go. How does that feel, huh?" Michael whispered and Trevor laid there, aching. He wanted to feel Michael's hands on him, his hot breath close on his neck, to hear his heart throb deep in his chest and feel it pulse through every one of his extremities... but a halfhearted cuddle was just about all he was ever gonna get it seemed. Somehow it was just enough to calm him down.  
  
"You feelin' any better?" Asked Michael after some time had passed. He thought he'd finally gotten used to Trevor's miasma, unfortunately. Trevor stirred from restless dozing. His weary eyes fluttered open.  
  
"At least I ain't gotta look at your ugly mug." Trevor grumbled spitefully, but only because he was so very grateful.  
  
"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." Michael sneered. Trevor jabbed his elbow into the other's ribs in response. Michael groaned, but let out a chuckle, bracing his arm over Trevor's chest in resistance. "Oh come on, I used to catch you lookin' all the time..."  
  
"Yeah, that was about 10 years of San Andreas sun and about 600 cheeseburgers ago."  
  
"Give me a break... Does it make you feel better about yourself when you degrade me? At least I ain't had a dependency on methamphetamines for the last 10 years like somebody I know."  
  
"Go fuck yourself." Trevor said, too finished to really care.  
  
"Right back at ya buddy."  
  
  
 [] End []


End file.
